


This Boy

by gwen_diblley



Category: A Hard Day's Night (1964), The Beatles
Genre: Internal Monologue, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 16:52:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11490624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwen_diblley/pseuds/gwen_diblley
Summary: Quite short one-shot taken from the scene in 'A Hard Days Night' film where Ringo goes out wandering following his discussion with Paul's Granddad. Its written as an internal monologue.





	This Boy

**Author's Note:**

> This was something I wrote about a year ago, and I still don't know how I feel about it, the main reason why I'm putting it on here is so I don't loose it, as I recently lost my old laptop which had on it all my old works on it.

I’ve never realised it until now, but being old and middle-aged takes up most of your time. And what have I done so far? Sure, I’m in a band, but I don’t get ant credit for it. I’m just the drummer, the scapegoat, only there when the others need a pick-me-up. And I can’t stand it any longer, I want to go to places, see things, meet people. To paraphrase John McCartney: he’s got a lifetime of memories, and all I’ve got is a book.

Walking out of the studios and down the paved street I am suddenly attacked, as usual, by a hoard of teenage girls who look like the messiah has just appeared before them. I want a life where I can go out without being recognised. Where everyday isn’t just a party, if I make a mistake it would just go unnoticed, because I would be a nobody. I wish pete best was still the sodding drummer and I can just go back to my life of simplicity. 

The girls soon realise that it’s ‘just the drummer’ and wander off. I duck into a charity shop and buy myself an overcoat and hat. Not conspicuous at all. I don’t fancy being chased again today, even if I am ‘just the drummer’.

As I meander down the street it dawns on me, I have my camera. I start to snapshot everyday life, milk bottles in crates, cracks in the pavement, people going about their everyday lives. I’m trying to give myself inspiration, immerse myself in ‘normal’ life.

So, what do ‘normal’ people  do? Walking past a pub a wave of both hunger and inspiration flows through me, I walk inside.

The pub is packed tight with people of all ages, just going about their daily lives. A sour faced old woman serves me a cheese sandwich and a pint. It feels good to just blend with the public once again. I place my pint down behind me as i try to pay. CRASH! I swivel 180 degrees to find my glass and its contents decimated by a decrepit pub skittles set, the woman shouts at me, insisting that I still pay. As I struggle to get the change out of my pocket a man built like a brick wall nudges me and the change explodes out of my pocket. It clatters on top of a game of cards, scrambling the bets. I feel the tension rise around me as I quickly try to scoop up enough change to buy my food, and then scarper to the other side of the room. An old battered dartboard hangs precariously on the back wall. I’m trying to blend in. I pick up three starts. Shot one is followed by an ominous squark, I daren’t look at what has happened in the bird cage opposite. Shot two promptly lands slap bang in the middle (of an aging man’s tuna sandwich). I don’t make it to shot three, as the crotchety woman turfs me out of the establishment. Keep walking Ringo…

What do ‘normal’ people do? I meander down to the dock, and spot a rock embedded into the ground. It doesn’t look too big, and seems pretty clean. To be honest, i haven't really done anything particularly daring or interesting so far in this little excursion, so I’m developing the overwhelming urge to lob it into the river below. It can't be that big, right? I grab it with both hands. The rock is actually two tonne and covered in mud. I finally dislodge it and prize it out of the ground. I have to throw it now, what else can i do? I letgo and it swoops down into the river. It makes a tremendous splash, and fear grips me. Looking around, i can see a police officer riding a bicycle with a stern look on his face 

“SHOW SOME RESPECT” the bobby yells, riding past. Truly intimidates, I scramble to find a comeback, in the end I lack choice and have to settle for the pathetic “SOUTHERNER”.

I run down to the riverbed, and start skimming stones across the river, inspiration strikes, i should take a photograph of myself to remind me of the day. I set the camera up on a moss covered boulder, and use the remote shutter wire. Instead of hearing a ‘CLICK’ a large ‘SPLASH’ echoes on the river bed. Karma has struck and my camera has plopped into the river, although I can't help wondering what I have done to deserve this? I pick it up and shake it, it’s ruined, brilliant.

Walking on, something has to go right today, surely? I am bumped into by a tyre. The owner of said tyre is a ten year old deserter. He doesn't recognise me, judge me or shout at me. It feels good to be treated simply as a human for once. We talk for some time about what the future holds, and why we are all here. He talks about his friends; Ginger, Eddie Fallon and DIng Dong (yes, as in ding-dong-bell). It feels nice for the attention not to be on me for once. Soon enough, his friends call him over and hes gone. Deserted by a boy deserter, how nice.

I assess the situation. Maybe mistakes are just attracted to me, maybe i cannot help but get things wrong. But I am not the butt-of-the-joke or simply ‘the drummer,' i set off back to the studios, to be fair, my life is full of memories, not just books. I am immediately ambushed by another policeman “you’re the boy who was causing havoc in the kings arms earlier!” he shouts “right you’re coming with me”

 


End file.
